Hunted
by Victory to the Shard
Summary: Being in the military isn't all fun and games.


The door slammed shut, the locks slammed in place, and the blast shield hummed to life.

Gedogo breathed a sigh of relief, even as he berated himself over his own cowardice. His brethren had stayed and fought, why hadn't he? Certainly, he was a scientist, not a soldier, but that didn't mean he hadn't sworn an oath when he joined the military. Being a scientist was no excuse. His closest comrade, Jerrid, had stood his ground, opened fire, and called for reinforcements, exactly as procedure demanded. Jerrid was no soldier. Jerrid was probably even less suited to combat than Gedogo himself, and yet _he_ had stayed and fought, while Geodogo fled.

_Really though_, a small, nasty part of Gedogo whispered,_ look what it got him._

He wasn't really sure how to argue that. Especially considering it had been pretty much inevitable. Survival, let alone _victory_ was a laughable thing to hope for against such a thing. The higher-ups insisted that everyone try anyways, and had provided numerous incentives to do just that. To do otherwise was... unimaginable. Loyalty, obedience, fearlessness. These were things driven into soldiers, scientists, and even janitors from day one on into infinite. Victory could often be achieved against a technically superior foe by overwhelming them in a swift, sure strike. This ideal had served the force extremely well for as long as anyone could remember, and probably much longer than that. Every individual knew these, knew them not just in their mind, but in every fiber of their being. Training scenarios beat the idea into them. Those who hesitated, those who failed to follow orders promptly, those who doubted their superior, they _lost_. They did not die. It would be incredibly wasteful to allow them to be killed before they could learn the error of their ways. But they would certainly not be let out of basic training until they could clear the simplest scenarios. That these scenarios consistantly placed the recruits in impossible situations with overwhelming odds often struck the newcomers as distinctly unfair, but anyone who had been in the force for a while knew that it was this utterly demanding and totally unyielding standard that made the resulting soldiers the best this galaxy had. (Short of Metroids and... one other)

Gedogo knew all this, understood it all. He'd been through the training. Actually, he'd designed some of the systems they used for the training nowadays. Nothing revolutionary, else he wouldn't be here, now, in this situation. If he was a technical genius, he would've been assigned to an advanced project, probably on the homeworld. Reverse-engineering Chozo technology, or designing the next generation of lethal fighter craft. These were the things geniuses did, the things Gedogo _wanted_ to do. Unfortunately, his was a much more benign skill, and his prowess got him exactly what he _didn't_ want: an assignment in 'grey' territory. Out on the fringe, in danger but not actually doing anything important. He hated these kinds of assigments. His brethren, they quite liked them. Glory, the thrill of combat, the joy of overcoming the foe, as opposed to the boredom of an inner assignment, and without anywhere near the level of danger of frontline combat missions against superior forces. Gedogo hated it, though. Maybe it would be different if he was involved in the brief skirmishes that flared up periodically, but as it stood, he was just the one everyone went to when something broke.

It was... very demeaning.

But a more cynical part of Gedogo suspected that wouldn't make a difference. The battles fought here were empty, meaningless. While the soldiers around him bragged about their kill-count, told stories about the incredible near-death-experiences they'd been through (Most of which were exaggerated or outright lies), and generally pumped up their egos, Gedogo always found himself wondering what they saw in all of it. It was glory, yes, but it was an empty sort of glory. This wasn't defeating a great army, or taking a valuable position. This was just killing the other side to no particular purpose other than maintaining control over the area. The terribly unimportant area.

He just didn't see the point to it.

Still, having something to do other than repair devices any idiot could fix with a minimum understanding of basic mechanical and electronic principles would be nice. Something better than his hobbies, that is. In a way, it was very freeing doing his own little experiments without having to get approval from a higher authority, but without such approval came a lack of funding, and time, and other forms of support. Jerrid had been the only one willing to assist Gedogo with his experiments, and even he only did so occasionally. That the experiments could only be done between fixing everything that needed fixing had been a source of great frustration on more than one occasion. Some experiments were time-sensitive, and were ruined when he was delayed for too long. Even the ones that weren't had, more often than not, been interfered with by some grunt while Gedogo was off elsewhere, unable to do anything about it. Occasionally, he'd thought he'd discovered something amazing, only to find out some idiot had _urinated_ in the container. Or worse.

Gedogo still hadn't forgiven Tdaln for _that_ particular incident. Though it was probably a moot point, now. Tdaln had been among the first to arrive.

Typical of Tdaln. Always eager for more glory, always rushing into a situation without giving it even a _little_ thought. It was a wonder he was only scarred heavily, and not actually maimed. So little consideration for his personal survival... Gedogo couldn't relate. This vexed him. To be fearless, to be obedient, to be loyal. These are the things that Tdaln embodies, that everyone strives for, and that Gedogo just couldn't find in himself. How could he be loyal to an abstract cause? Obedient to complete strangers? Most of all, unafraid in life-and-death situations?

Intellectually, Gedogo had liked to think that, when the time came, that he would stand firm, and face the enemy with a confident grin. It had all seemed to easy. Naturally, when the event came to pass, Gedogo found himself to instead be the only one to run in a room full of dozens. Considering the exact nature of the invasion force, he felt completely justified in not sticking around, and yet... nobody else had fallen back. How could he justify his own retreat when more than a hundred others had stood firm, knowing what would almost certainly come of it?

He couldn't.

Not to himself, and certainly not to anyone else.

And, he decided, he wouldn't have to. He was going to turn around, open the door, and throw himself at the enemy. He was going to fight! Going to kill! Going to WIN! Or he was going to damn well die trying! Because if everyone else could do it so readily, than so could he!

_For Honor! For Glory! For the Space Pirates! Death to The Hunter!_


End file.
